


Aftermath

by Paranormality



Category: Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury
Genre: Canon Continuation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 23:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6133969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paranormality/pseuds/Paranormality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short continuation of the ending that I wrote for my English class.</p><p>After the city fell, Montag walked among the rubble to find that the manhunt was not yet over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

The empty streets are lined with discarded papers, fluttering in the wind like black-lined moths. The streetlights flicker as a man and a girl walk down the sidewalk, the echoes of their footsteps reverberating off of unseen walls. The man, a tall figure with his hands in his pockets, walks slowly to match his smaller companion short, flowing strides. His short black hair, now kept slightly shaggier than the fireman’s mandatory cut as if to provide mental assurance of their nonexistence, trembled gently in the warm October winds. The girl walking beside him was clad in a simple white dress that hung gracefully at her ankles, her hair appearing as moonlight in the dusk. She had an aura of sophistication about her, a nimble skip in her step and a benevolent smile on her face. On her head was a simple maple leaf, tucked lightly into the folds of her hair. The duo walked along the endless sidewalk, the ominously empty houses sitting eerie and still off to the side.

“Have you ever watched the stars?” The girl asked, rather suddenly.

The man looked to her as he walked. “No, I can’t say that I have.”

“It’s quite lovely,” The girl hummed. “They form pictures if you look long enough. See, that cluster there rather resembles a soup spoon, doesn’t it?”

The man looked up, following her gaze to the cluster. “I suppose you could say that,” He said earnestly, though he saw nothing.

“But the sky is wonderful all on its own,” The girl continued, pointing. “Doesn’t it seem as if it’s one large cloth that someone decided to poke holes through? Wouldn’t it be interesting if someone were peeking in?”

The man considered it, trying to follow her logic. “I’ve never thought about that,” He told her. “I usually compare it to far-off ceiling lights.”

The girl airily laughed. “Well, that’s a start. You used to never look at the stars. Such a shame that no one really does besides us. Gosh, I wonder if out of everyone in the world, we’re the only ones looking up? That makes us quite special, doesn’t it?”

The man chuckled, though he took the suggestion seriously. “We are quite odd,” He remarked. “We very well could be. On that note, do you think the newest generation of children have even touched a book? Of course there are the manuals, but...” He trailed off, trying his best to think.

“Montag,” Replied Clarisse.

The man frowned. “What?”

“Montag,” Repeated Clarisse. Her voice was not hers. “Wake up.”

 

In an instant, the street was gone and the houses faded to nothing, Clarisse vanishing without another word into a red mist, leaving him alone as his vision faded. When he came to, he found himself staring up at the morning sky, an extensive blue void laced with orange and pink. Right in the center of the spectacle was the face of Granger.

“Montag you damned fool, we’ve been calling your name for quite some time now.”

Montag blinked once, twice, three times and sat up slowly. Surrounding him were the other men, all looking well-fed and prepared to set out again.

Granger, who stood the closest to Montag, tossed him several places of bacon. “We didn’t think it right to wake you. You haven’t slept that damned long in quite some time.”

Montag stared at the bacon, as if attempting to process a large amount of information inside his reeling brain, and finally stood up. “Are we moving?” He asked, dazed, as he began to eat his breakfast.

“Yeah, final stretch.” Granger replied gruffly. “Planning to make it through the forest today.”

Montag gathered the limited things they had that he had been designated to carry and joined the group. “Do you suppose we’ll make it to the city today?”  
“If we make good time,” Granger shrugged. “Maybe.”

Montag nodded slowly, eyes wandering to the forest that lined the outskirts of the city. The inner rings of trees were all completely bare of leaves, destroyed by the blast that leveled the city. It was significantly less ominous during the day and with the removal of the vast majority of vegetation. Without another hesitation, the group began to walk the rest of the way to the city, leaving nothing but their footsteps behind them.

___

The sound of charred leaves crunching under booted feet filled Montag’s ears, the distinct lack of conversation allowing Montag time to brew in his own thoughts. This granted him the ability to further memorize the segments of his book. He feared that a time would come when the verses would slip through his mind one by one, leaving him as empty as he came. He dare not share this with the others, as they did not appear to have the same worry. This eventually led him to wonder whether they were in fact as afraid as Montag yet also feared to admit it, which only increased his paranoia. His mind opted to drop this particular train of thought, a notion that he didn’t argue with.

The city’s remaining structures were visible over the skeleton trees that lined their horizons, smoke still billowing from the buildings that remained partially standing amongst the ashes and rubble. As they drew closer, their stomachs began to churn with the fetid stench of charred flesh coupled with the effects of the radiation, slowing their progress significantly. Despite the setbacks, the men plowed forward with a certain determination, tacitly urging each other onward. Montag strength was quickly waning, but he didn’t dare request a break. Despite the fact that he had been with the group for over two weeks, he still worried that they perceived him as of a lower rank (despite Granger’s adamant denial that this was the case). At some point, they breached the outer layer of trees and found themselves temporarily blinded, their sight gradually returning as they adjusted to the light.

The city was a horrid sight. Everything had either turned to ash or been reduced to a pile of charred rubble, singed skeletons scattered about the area. Any and all structures had been buried underneath rock, sunken into the ground or toppled over completely. There seemed to be a few areas that contained less debris than the others, though they were few and far between.

Granger turned to the others. “Well, we’ve made it. Now what the hell do we do? We can’t enter the city yet; it’s horribly unstable, especially for a group this large.”

“We could set up here,” West suggested. “And send one or two of us in at a time periodically to gather things until gravity does its work and it’s safe to go in.”

Murmurs of agreement from the other men.

Granger watched their faces. “I’m hearing no other suggestions, so that’s what we’re gonna do. Clement, Simmons, do you mind heading to gather firewood first?”

“Not at all.” Simmons spoke for Clement, who appeared slightly hesitant. “We can take care of it.”

Granger nodded his assent. “Thank you. Montag? You and I can head into the city to find materials for a camp, since it’s seems like we’re going to be staying here awhile. Padover, why don’t you find a location?”

Padover nodded and walked off. Montag appeared dubious, but complied anyway, stepping up to walk alongside Granger.

“We can head to the old fire station,” Granger suggested. “It’s probably the most reinforced and you know the way.” Granger nudged his shoulder. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t spark any old flames, eh?”

Montag laughed, following Granger into the ruins. Despite the unworried facade and friendly talk, Guy Montag found himself afraid.

___

“It’s over that hill, ain't it? Goddamn, I haven’t been here in so damn long.” Granger appeared nostalgic over the city, despite its corrupt ways. “Why don’t I branch off here and you search the building? There’s some houses off yonder- I’m going to find some things there. You know your way around.”

Granger patted Montag’s shoulder reassuringly and climbed over a pile of debris, effectively disappearing from Montag’s view. Montag watched him leave, paused a minute or two, then glanced at the firehouse, a looming figure half-collapsed from the bomb. The first floor seemed more or less leveled, but the second floor had sunk so that it appeared to merge with the one below it. Montag stepped over the rocks, making his way slowly and meticulously over to the building. Careful not to hurt himself, he hoisted himself over what used to be the floor of the second story and pulled himself into the room that they used to play cards in. The very table, in fact, lay in splinters at his feet.

_ “Your turn, Montag!”  _ He heard the voices say. _ “By God, if you get another hand like that...” _

He pushed them away, frowning to himself. Extending a hand, he moved some rocks over to expose a single bedroll and several medical kits that had fallen from their slot on the wall. He picked them up, placing the medkits in the bedroll before standing again. He shifted another rock and the structure groaned in protest, the concrete shifting under his feet. He supposed that it was a warning to get down, and decided that it would be in everyone’s best interest to heed it. His eyes landed on the old fire pole, which still seemed somewhat intact. He recalled, faintly, sliding down this very pole many times before his life went upside down. It was almost fond, he realized, until the hatred for the firemen returned and his thoughts righted themselves.

The structure shifted again, prompting him to hurry up. He glanced to where he had climbed, seeing a simple way of getting down again. He took one step forward, and the firehouse began to cave in. The ceiling- or, rather, the floor- rapidly started to collapse, creating a gaping hole blocking Montag from possible escape. Frantic, he dropped the supplies and scanned the area, trying to find another way out. The hole was widening, and he didn’t have much time.

His eyes landed on the fire pole.

In one desperate move, Montag leapt and latched himself to the brass pole, sliding down just as the ceiling collapsed. Right as Montag regretted his decision, the metal framework surrounding the pole and the fire truck diverted the barrage of rocks to right where the supposed exit was, simultaneously trapping him and saving him. At this point, he didn’t know whether to thank his luck or curse it, but he was heavily leaning towards the latter. He dusted himself off and began to search through the small space that the collapse had created, which contained only about half of the room. The only thing that broke the complete darkness of the space was the cascade of light that tumbled through the hole leading to nowhere above his head. Montag internally swore at himself for not just jumping across, but to his credit it was a rather panic-inducing moment. He sat in silence a moment, regarding the quietness of his new prison and finding himself wishing that he wasn’t down here all alone.

A green-blue light from the Hound’s kennel flickered on.

At first, Montag didn’t believe what his eyes were telling him. He had killed the Hound- he’d watched it burn. And besides, the one brought in from the neighboring district couldn’t have survived the blast. His mind was lying to him. Yes, that’s it. His panic had created some form of hallucination, and in just a few moments-

A thought struck Montag. The Mechanical Hound from the neighboring district had killed a man that wasn’t Montag. The Hound was programmed to track Montag and Montag alone, no matter what facade the media was feeding the public.  _ That’s impossible, _ Montag told himself, gradually getting more and more afraid. The Hound, even if it did somehow evade the blast, runs on electricity. It has to charge somehow, and all of the power stations-

_ The Fire Station charges the Hound with its underground emergency generator. The blast didn’t affect the underground. _

A dull, metallic ‘click’ echoed louder than it should have, and the battered figure of the Hound stepped fluidly out of the kennel. It’s once-sleek outer shell was now destroyed, pieces of it ripped off by weeks of neglect and the harsh terrain, bits of exposed copper wiring hanging out from various places. One of its lighted eyes, once a blue-green color that was normally associated with the Hound, was cracked, the light dimmer and somehow even more sinister.

A voice sang in his ear.  _ “The Mechanical Hound never fails..” _

It watched Montag for a brief moment, its head slowly tilting sideways as if in curiosity. Montag could practically see the vile wheels turning in its rusted head as it worked to process his scent though its damaged databases, the long metal needle slowly extending from its muzzle, contorted into a growl. Montag looked at the Hound, and the Hound looked at Montag, and they both came to the same paralyzing conclusion.

_ Run. _


End file.
